


The Apology

by Houseofhaleth



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofhaleth/pseuds/Houseofhaleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Fingon and his father have a bit of a disagreement about punching people who deserve it, and apologising, and politics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apology

He could hear the noise in the entrance hall before anyone came to fetch him. A raised adult voice –

_‘…needs to discipline his son, and I will not wait for an audience!’_

  Nolofinwë paused. _My_ son? What’s he done…?

  He set his pen down, strode out of the office and jogged down the stairs. In the hallway stood a man and two boys. One he recognised as his eldest son, who stood straight-backed and defiant. The other boy…the other boy was going to have a sensational black eye in the morning, he realised. A reddish tinge on his top lip suggested that his nose had been bleeding, but had been wiped away. Both boys were dusty and unkempt but Findekáno – he gave him a long look as he approached – didn’t seem hurt.

For a moment he struggled to remember the man’s name, and covered this by looking gravely between the two boys – _Carnwë,_ that was it. A smith, and a not-too-quiet supporter of Fëanaro .

  ‘Carnwë. Have they been fighting?’ he asked.

  ‘Obviously,’ said the man, coldly. Nolofinwë swallowed his annoyance.

  ‘Did you witness it?’

  ‘I witnessed enough. Your son attacked mine, unprovoked, and shows no remorse for it.’

  Nolofinwë didn’t believe that even for a second, but he nodded, seriously. He turned to the boy. ‘Carnwion – Findekáno just walked up and hit you for no reason?’

  ‘Atar, I _didn’t-’_ Findekáno burst out.

  ‘You will have your turn in a moment, Findekáno. Carnwion?’

  The boy looked up at his father, wide eyed.

  ‘A fine thing if a man who is gradually seeking more and more civic responsibility can’t even discipline his own son,’ Carnwë observed.

  ‘Worse if he can’t listen to the facts before making a decision. Did you see the beginning of the fight, Carnwë? Because my son seems to think your account isn’t accurate, and I would think carefully before calling him a liar.’

  The man’s mouth tightened. ‘Well, are you calling _my_ son a liar? He said he was attacked for no reason!’

  ‘Is that so, Carnwion?’ Nolofinwë asked the boy, who was starting to look genuinely panicked. Again, he couldn’t manage to say anything but looked up at his father. ‘Very well. Findekáno?’

  ‘He had a smaller boy by the arms, and said since his mother was Teleri he must be able to swim. Then he pushed him in the river. The boy was crying and I…well I pulled him out of the river first, _then_ I hit Carnwion,’ said Findekáno, frankly.

  If he stayed this honest, he was going to be a terrible politician. But in that moment, Nolofinwë couldn’t make himself feel anything but pride.

  ‘Hmmm. There’s the reason, I suppose,’ he said, turning back to Carnwë.

  ‘Is your son the elected peacekeeper among all the children now? Does he have a right to hit anyone he feels is stepping out of line?’

  ‘Do you not feel that pushing smaller children into the river based on their parentage is out of line?’

  ‘It was a game! It was just funny!’ Carnwion burst out, shakily.

  ‘He was _crying,’_ Findekáno snarled.

  ‘Your son does not have the right to hit mine! Does he think he’s a servant of the Valar, dispensing “justice”?’

  ‘What should you have done, Findekáno?’ Nolofinwë asked.

  ‘Atar, he was throwing people into the river – he didn’t even know that boy could swim-’

  ‘He could, he’s Teleri!’

  _‘That doesn’t make it okay to throw him in the river!’_

Nolofinwë stepped in front of his son. ‘Findekáno – I asked you a question. Let me re-phrase it. The next time you see someone doing something you know to be wrong, what are you going to do?’

  Findekáno’s furious glare said it quite clearly without words. _I’m going to give them another black eye, Atar._

Before he could say it out loud – and he was going to, Nolofinwë could tell – he cut in. ‘You’re going to rescue the child being wronged – that was very admirable. You’re then going to take them to an adult. It’s an adult’s job to deal out a just punishment, not yours.’

  ‘What if they don’t?’ Findekáno muttered, glaring at Carnwë.

  ‘You’re an expert in law now? You’re always correct about what’s right and wrong, are you? Besides, I’m certain Carnwë is going to make sure Carnwion won’t do this again.’

  ‘It’s not up to you how I bring up my son, Nolofinwë. I’m not the one putting myself in a position of ruling over others.’

  ‘No, but I’m sure other parents of small children in the area will be concerned about this, and want to know something’s being done. What shall I tell them?’

  Carnwë squirmed. ‘I’ll talk to him. But I want an apology from your son.’

  ‘I should certainly hope you’ll talk to him, because if another adult discovers him doing it again…well. Findekáno. Please apologise for hitting him.’

  ‘No,’ said Findekáno.

 _Ah._ He cursed himself. He should’ve seen that coming. He turned to look at his son, who was looking back, meeting his eyes without shame. ‘I can’t apologise. Because I’m not sorry.’

  Carnwë didn’t need to repeat all his jabs – _if you can’t even control your son, who are you to try and claim any authority, to try and take on any of your father’s duties at court –_ because Nolofinwë could hear them, as if spoken aloud in the silence.

  ‘Come with me, Findekáno,’ he said. For a horrible moment he thought the boy would refuse – but then he followed him into a side room.

  Nolofinwë shut the door. ‘Right. I understand you’re not sorry,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘I completely understand why you hit him. But…’ how could he explain? _I wish I had a right to smack the little bully as well, but I don’t. Its Carnwë’s right as a parent to bring his son up to be a horrible individual, and we can’t interfere with that, with his system of justice (or lack thereof). When Carnwion’s an adult he’ll answer to the law, but right now it’s just unfair._ How do you explain all that to a child?

  ‘I’m not angry with you for hitting him. But I need you to say sorry,’ he said.

  ‘I’m _not_ sorry.’

  ‘I know. You need to say it, though.’

  ‘Why do you want me to lie?’

  ‘No…it’s…complicated…’ Nolofinwë found he couldn’t look his son in the eye. It’s important, because Carnwë’s going to spread this around all of Fëanaro’s supporters, if you openly disobey me in front of him…

 _My Findekáno, who loves justice, being dragged into politics at such a young age._ Nolofinwë hated himself even as he put his hands on Findekáno’s shoulders. ‘Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to, just to protect ourselves from other people. I’m not going to make you lie. Think about what you are sorry for – are you sorry his nose bled so much? Are you sorry you got caught? Sorry you didn’t get a chance to black his other eye? You walk out there, and say the word “sorry”, thinking about whatever truth you like. Then it’s done. I won’t punish you.’

  ‘Atar…’ tears were starting in Findekáno’s eyes. ‘It’s not fair.’

  ‘Listen to me. This is important. I do not want to hear you say no to me again, I’m your father, and I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t need you to.’

_Using your child as a political tool? Really?_

  It’s just a word, it won’t hurt him. While Carnwë’s mouth could hurt a lot of good things I want to do. _Is one insincere apology worse than naming your son “Nelyafinwë”?_

  Findekáno was crying now, at the injustice of it. Nolofinwë took him by the hand, and led him back out to the entrance hall. ‘Well?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Findekáno choked, furiously.

  ‘That was hardly-’

  ‘Take your son and go, Carnwë, before I lose patience, I won’t pander to your pride or his any more. If he can’t live with the consequences of his actions he’s going to struggle – I suggest you teach him that – and teach him that only cowards go after those younger than them. For his own good.’

  ‘You can’t tell me how to bring up my son-’

  ‘It was a suggestion.’ Nolofinwë opened the door – a bit too suddenly, and a bit too close to Carnwë’s head. ‘Now I _suggest_ you leave.’

  Like his son, Carnwë wasn’t willing to stand up to people unless he thought it would be an easy fight. He glared at Nolofinwë, humiliated, and pulled his son out of the door.

  Nolofinwë closed the door behind him, and let out a breath. Findekáno was scrubbing his eyes, and gave his father a betrayed look.

  ‘Findekáno, I’m…’

  He had to stop. He wanted, very much, to apologise to his son for making him do that – for the fact he was involved in politics at all.

But how could he say “sorry”? He’d just made the word completely meaningless.


End file.
